The Art of Manipulation
by nnekers
Summary: Agent John Waston is sent to work undercover to catch England's most infamous serial killer, Sherlock Holmes, aka the England Ripper. Knee-deep into the mission, John Watson begins to feel himself falling in love with Sherlock. Now he's on a mission, trying to find out if Sherlocks feelings for him are real, putting both his own feelings, and life, in danger.


The room was dark and smelled of copper. The only source of light came from the large screen projecting an image of FBI Agent Thomas Heckler, the leader in their current mission. Chairs were arranged around a large metal table in the middle of the room with an agent settled in each seat.

Agent Heckler began the meeting.

"As you already know, we have been undercover for a couple of months trying to catch the England Ripper. If you had read up on the reports that were given to you, you would already know that he has killed a total of 13 people, all closeted gay males of different backgrounds in different parts of England. The England Ripper operates a little differently than most of the serial killers we are used to. When he spots someone he likes, he tracks them, manipulates them into thinking that he loves them, and after a few weeks, kills them. When he is done severing their body parts, he drains their funds and moves on to his next victim. He is very neat and organized and this is what led to his first slip. He hops from city to city in order. He has hit Bolton, Manchester, Nottingham and Peterborough. He is now in Cambridge. And we _will _be there to get him. Due to injury, Special Agent Henry Palace is not with us, so our very own Special Agent John Watson will step in as 'John Moriarty' and go undercover to crack this case." The agent stopped to clear his throat. "Any questions?"

The room was silent.

"Good. Please begin to go to your assigned positions. And Watson, a word, please."

All the other agents had risen from their seats and filed through the door of the meeting room. John remained in his seat flipping through his file, his new life as John Moriarty.

"Watson, the reason why your first name was kept as is was because the person we are dealing with is a very intelligent and dangerous mastermind, and if for a moment you forgot that your name is 'Henry' or 'James', things could get dangerous."

John pursed his lips. "Understood."

"Good, good." The agent's face softened a bit and John knew where the conversation was heading. "Listen John, about your last case, Mission 24—"

"I assure you that I am fine; good as new. I am ready for this mission."

The room was silent. Agent Heckler was referring to the five shots to his stomach that he received while undercover, trying to bust a drug smuggling ring in Russia. Being left to die in the middle nowhere in Novosibirsk. The police finally finding him after nine hours, body almost fully drained of blood. It was brutal, but he had assured himself that he was over it. After all, it was his fault. Get o_ver it, John._

After a few seconds of hesitation, he began again. "Fine. We are flying you to your position in less than ten minutes. Be ready…and be careful. Signing off."

The screen went black and John was left to rummage through his file. They already knew what the guy looked like. It was just a matter of catching him and every other person in his operation. His frequent spots included the Bernard Café, Kyeong (an Asian restaurant not far from his hotel) and an old abandoned build on West Key.

John stared at the photo paper-clipped to the side of the file. His hair was jet-black with loose curls. His face seemed stern. The England Ripper seemed like a normal person.

There was a sudden knock on the door of the meeting room.

"Ready when you are, Watson." The man said.

John closed the file and stood from his seat. "Ready."

* * *

John stood in front of Bernard's Café. He took two deep breaths before entering, and he suddenly knew why the England Ripper frequented this shop. The café was bustling with activity. There were people buzzing with gossip and life stories and whatever they saw on television last night while they ate and drank from their recyclable coffee cups. The line to order seemed to stretch for days, but he hopped on it anyway. _Might as well look like I actually came here to eat, _John thought to himself.

He tried reading the menu but everything seemed blurry. He realized that he left his contacts in its case back at his fake apartment. He sighed and began to squint.

He picked up the words "espresso" and "small", before he was interrupted.

"Left your glasses at home?" The voice was deep seemed to mask all the other annoying voices around him. John looked in front of him and there he was: the England Ripper, clad in all black attire except for his mahogany oxfords. _I can't believe my luck. I must not fuck this up. Go with the truth._

"Contacts. I can't seem to remember where I put them."

The Ripper laughed. _Bingo. _"That used to happen to me before I got laser eye surgery. Let me help you out."

The Ripper read out half the menu before John chose to settle with an English Tea and a croissant. The Ripper order his coffee black without sugar.

Once they were both off line, John noticed that all the seats were taken.

"Outside? There are benches." The Ripper said, reading the look in John's eyes.

John feigned an "uncertain" look.

"We don't have to sit together, I'm just saying—"

"No, it's alright. Beats sitting alone." John replied.

"True." The Ripper smirked. _Another win._

As they walked outside, John mentally took an even deeper breath. He was to regard the Ripper as a normal guy and build a friendship with him. This could take months, but better safe than sorry. He tried not to think about the fact that this was the same guy who killed 13 men, cutting off their limbs and…penises.

He blinked the thought away and sat down right next to the Ripper.

"So what brings you here? You seem…lost." The Ripper grinned. The smile soon disappeared. "Shit, I'm so rude. I'm Sherlock." He held his hand out for a handshake. His skin was pale and his fingers, slender.

"John, and I just moved here yesterday. Dumped." John took the Ripper's hand in his own and shook it firmly.

"Dumped?"

"By my girlfriend. Well ex." Sherlock seemed disappointed, but the look was quickly replaced with a warm smile. "So you don't know anything about this place and you have no friends? That's no good."

"I mean I hope I have one now…"

Sherlock smiled, showing all his white teeth. "You are hilarious. Why where you dumped, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Well according to her, my sex was mediocre and she had found someone else. Oh let's not forget that I wasn't there for her." John's eyes where glazed over with hurt, but he was referring to something totally different. _Mission 24._

Sherlock looked a bit sad.

"Sorry. I feel like I just ripped opened a wound of yours."

"Nah, it's okay. I just need to distracted myself."

"If you want, I could show you around some day, y'know as a distraction. The sights here are amazing at night." Sherlock said, taking a sip of his now luke-warm coffee.

"I'd like that." John replied, feeling a weird, warm feeling in his stomach. "Are you always this friendly to strangers?"

"Just the cute ones." Sherlock winked.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! **

**Reviews are welcomed!**

**- NA**


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